Dolores Umbridge Psychoanalsyis Number one
by Miscellaneous Sonata
Summary: What happens when I'm in a weird mood and get strange ideas..then I act upon them. Scary thought,no? yeah it's been a while since I last wrote any fanfic and hopefully I've gotten better. Btw, the next student has yet to be decided!This is your vote!Who d


Dolores Umbridge Psychoanalysis Number One 

Dolores tapped her quill anxiously against the big oak desk in her fashionable dark office. She was almost dreading this next student as she was forbidden by the ministry to use any magic. She frowned and waited. Late as usual. The boy had no sense of time or manners and she intended to teach him both.

"it's about time, boy. Did you think I would wait all day for you? Sit. Down. Go on, tell me what's wrong with you."

Harry frowned as he slumped into the hard chair, folding his arms defiantly. "You first."

"Potter, I do NOT have time for your pointless banter. How do you feel about that?"

"What?"

"I said how do you feel about that?"

"About what"

"The file here says that you're moody, frustrating and have an attitude problem. You're also borderline, temperamental and an ass. I added that last part there. I hope you like it."

"Loathe it."

"Good for you," Umbridge scowled and let her quill do all the work. She was not in the mood and for once she couldn't remember what she had done to deserve such punishment. Damn that Cornelius Fudge.

"I'm not falling for your ministry tricks, High Inquistor. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. Want my life history? Go look it up." Harry fidgeted, his left leg jiggling over the confusing patterns of the Persian rug beneath him.

"Not my fault, Potter. Now you're going to tell me your problems or else."

"Or else what?"

"I'll force you to listen to the polka for the rest of our time. Go on, I dare you. Don't make me. I'll get Filch in here to dance."

For what seemed like an eternity, her quill hovered in the air as her bony finger lingered over the record player. She was grinning more than ever. She still had power over him even though non magical. She just wished she actually enjoyed the polka. Though Potter's face was worth all of it.

She was about to push down on the album when the door opened and a flash of red Weasley hair interrupted Harry's torture. Needless to say, this made Harry relax and look as well. A smile crossed his face when he recognized who it was and he reddened despite himself.

"Oh, hi, Ginny." Harry blushed still and waved desperately at her just wishing she would help him escape. "Did you, uh, need anything?"

"No, uh, I don't, I mean, I'm really just not here at all. Wrong turn, promise. S- s-sorry Harry."

"Ginny, wait I-"

"Yes, Harry? Did you want something from me?"

Harry coughed awkwardly and pushed the air out of his face before looking at her again, blushing this time. "Uh, could you uh, find Ron? I- uh- need to talk to him later."

She nodded and quickly waved goodbye before realizing she was blushing too. "Bye Harry, good luck."

The door slammed behind her harder than he would have liked and jumped when it echoed. When he looked back, Umbridge was grinning widely at him again. Her smile was scarier than her normal smirk and he didn't like that even more than the awkward silence that creaked in the walls.

Something even scarier than this broad teasing smile then occurred. Umbridge laughed. For a long while, Harry didn't know what to think. The laugh was strange, high pitched and gurgly and almost uncontrollable. He stared at her and she kept laughing, placing a gnarled hand delicately on her shuddering collarbone.

"Dear Mr Potter, such a show you've just given me. It's almost worth this pointless responsibility."

"Again, I don't know what's so funny here. It was just Ginny, really just Ginny," he reassured himself though he knew his face must be very red by now.

"Really then, Mr. Potter. I'm sure Just Ginny wouldn't appreciate being called that. How do you feel about that?"

Now Harry was even more annoyed than at the start of the so called "session". How dare she make such assumptions when it was certainly NOT in her vocabulary or her station.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at," he lied, looking away from her chuckling form.

"Don't lie, Potter, that's MY job. Now go on or I may just tell Professor Snape of my ingenious discovery."

"Don't tell me you've found you have a soul," Harry grumbled, shifting in his place again.

"Ha! Nothing of the sort. You should be so lucky. No, you Mr. Potter have a guilty conscience. You're in love with dear little Ginny Weasley, your idiot best friend's sister. My, my, my, you silly students and your pathetic drama. How do you feel about that?"

"Is that the only thing you know about psychology?"

"Potter, I'll torment you gladly and you should know this," Her right eyebrow arched dramatically as she let her finger linger over the record player again.

"Oh, um, I mean I don' really, I think Ron would He wouldn't really-" He stuttered as Umbridge's finger pushed now onto the record. "All right, all right! I DO love her and you wouldn't know the meaning of the word."

Umbridge was back to grinning. "This is just too rich. Tell me how you feel about that?"

"Ok, I love Ginny Weasley! Get over it!"

"How descriptive of you," She scoffed, "and what are you going to do about your idiot best friend?"

"I don't know, all right? If I DID know, I certainly wouldn't be in here being forced to talk to you."

"Here's my advice, Potter."

"But I didn't ask for your damn advice!" Harry felt as if he was going to explode. This time he didn't even know what to do. He frowned, gripping the chair to try and ease it. What now?

"Giving it anyway. Ditch them both including that brat Granger. It may just keep you alive."

Harry tried to interrupt but the door creaked open, shedding some kind of real light into the damp room. He jumped up, hoping against hop that Ginny had lost her way again. He was sadly disappointed.

"Ah, Mr. Filch, please tell me you know how to polka." Harry groaned openly and slumped back in his chair as the squib poked his head through the door.

"Polka?" He grunted, long hookish nose sniffing curiously at them. "No, sorry, High Inquisitor, but I do know a mean waltz."

Umbridge frowned and sat back, putting out her notepad again. "Then what could you possibly want, Argus?"

"McGonnagal told Hagrid to tell Percy to tell me that your time is up. The next student is on their way. He can go now."

Harry sighed in relief, for once glad to see Filch. He quickly gathered his books together and dashed towards the door. He was going to escape before Umbridge or Filch changed their minds.

"Don't you dare run in the halls, Mr. Potter, and I'll be seeing you again next week. You're not getting out of this so easily." She yelled after him but he and Filch had already disappeared into the hallway.

Then more feet scuffled towards her office. She sighed, turning a page in her notepad for her next victim. She waited a little longer and then the door opened yet again.

End of Number One- Harry Potter

Psychoanalysis: Hate the idiotic Boy Wonder who thinks he can save the world and get away with it. Not today, boy, not while I'm still here.


End file.
